The Remorse of Tom Riddle
by kairi81
Summary: What if Tom Riddle had had a friend in school? What if this friend accidentally helped him to learn everything he would need to rule? What if this friend then aided Voldemort's enemies in defeating him? What if that was only the beginning?
1. The End is the Beginning

**A/N **Sorry it has taken me so long to update, but life got in the way. I am back with this story, and I promise I will update often. I should have a new chapter out soon, but as you may have noticed, I am updating the old chapters, and hopefully I can get the story to flow better. Please leave comments and reviews, this is my first story, so I would definately like to know what you think. I have also made two videos on youtube for this story if you wanna check them out. One is a trailer titled 'The remorse of Tom Riddle' the other is more of a look on their relationship titled 'Bring on the wonder Tom and Ainsleigh'. Leave comments and let me know what you think.

* * *

This was it, this was the moment. His final triumph. His wand was raised. The boy was standing like a lamb before the slaughter. Could it really be this easy? Why wasn't the boy going for his wand? Was it a trick? A trap perhaps? A faint figure began to shimmer behind the boy. It couldn't be. She shouldn't be here. She looked at him with incredible sadness, a disappointment he couldn't face. He said the words. The world went black.

* * *

The pain was unlike anything he had ever known. His soul screamed for mercy. He heard voices, indistinct whispers. White noise to the background of his pain. One voice slowly made its way to the forefront. He could barely comprehend what is was saying to him. He still had time. The boy would choose for them both. He would go back. It didn't have to be like this. Agony stretched throughout eternity. He felt himself pulling away from the pain. As the pain receded he became aware of the others. Shocked exclamations from his followers. The voice had vanished with the pain. He looked around. There, the boy was on the ground motionless. Was he dead? He had to make sure. The boy had to be dead, there was no other outcome acceptable to him.

* * *

He marched to the castle. His prize hanging limply in the arms of the half giant. The horrified cries of the old man's followers pleased him. All he had ever hoped for was within his grasp. He had always known he was destined for greatness, for immortality. His enemy was crushed, the others would soon follow. The only thing left to do was to wipe out any and all who refused to bow before him.

* * *

The battle was intense. Those inside the castle had not responded as he had hoped. His beloved companion was lost to him. Another piece of his soul destroyed. He felt it then in the midst of the furious fight. The boy. He had returned to haunt him with his survival. How could it be? How had he not known? They began to circle one another. This time the boy was not coming meekly under his wand. The words he spoke were impossible. How? How had the old man known so much? The boy was calmly taking apart every plan that he had made. He saw a familiar shimmering behind the boy. Once again she was there. Her hand resting gentlly on the boy's shoulder. The betrayal he felt was unexpected. He had to get her out of his head once and for all. He and the boy spoke at the same moment. As his wand flew through the air he heard her cry. Her denial was the last thing he was aware of as the world once again went black.

* * *

He was back. His personal hell was bleaker than he remembered. The pain more acute. The ebb and flow of agony surrounded him. His mind was consumed with three thoughts circling around, taunting him with all he had lost. The Boy. The Wand. Ainsleigh. The Boy. The Wand. Ainsleigh. How had it all gone wrong? What had he missed? The Boy. The Wand. Ainsleigh. The key was in there somewhere, yet it was just out of reach. Why couldn't he remember? The whispers came back, only this time there was one voice. A single voice fighting to be heard over the agonized screams in his mind. His mind began to reach for the voice almost instinctively. Almost as if he knew it could help.

"Tom" The pain slowly pulled back as he listened to the voice._ 'I'm here'_ his mind cried.

"Tom, it's time." The voice was stronger this time. _'Time for what?'_

"Time to atone." The voice was filled with sadness, regret. _'Atone? For what? For who?'_

"Let go Tom, let me help you." His mind reached for the promise in the voice. The promise of love, redemption, peace._ 'How?'_

"Choose to come with me. It's time." The beauty of the voice overwhelmed him. The compassion his final undoing. _'Yes, yes I choose.'_ He felt love wash over him as his mind finally let go.

* * *

Tom looked at his surroundings. He was standing in a courtyard. Hogwarts. He was at Hogwarts, only it was a Hogwarts he had never seen before. The silence was deafening. The castle seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. He felt anxious, uncertain of what he was doing there. He knew he was on the edge of an enormous precipice. The castle was waiting, and somehow he knew** SHE** was too. He looked behind him, and there she was. He had known she would be here. Somehow he had known when her hand had rested on the boy's shoulder that she would somehow be involved. He moved toward her. She had haunted his dreams for years. Even when he had been stuck in the painful half life after the boy's mother's love had defeated him, his only thoughts had been of revenge and her. Her face had accused him, of what he had never been sure. As he moved toward her, he suddenly realized he was happy, truly happy to see her sitting there.

"Ainsleigh." He breathed as he came to her. At the sound of his voice, her face broke out into a radiant smile.

"Welcome home Tom."


	2. Because I Helped Him

* * *

Albus Dumbledore paced the confines of his office, thinking. The trail taking him past his pensieve, then on to his desk where a tattered book was lying. This book was the object of the thoughts swirling through his mind at a rapid pace. Everything young Harry had told him earlier that day rushed through him, heightening his agitation. What he was thinking seemed impossible. What Harry had described awakened a sense of dread in. If the book was what he thought it was, many questions would be answered at long last. Yet even as questions were answered, the carelessness shown by Tom raised even more horrifying questions. Questions, possibilities that the headmaster was terrified could prove all too real. Would Tom have done it? Yes. Could Tom have done it? He had never heard of it being done, but if it could be done, Tom would certainly be capable. Did Tom do it? It certainly seemed so, but how many? A soft cough pulled the headmaster from his terrible musings. He turned and was faced with someone he hadn't seen in years. Someone he hadn't heard come in. Ainsleigh Garrett stood silently as Dumbledore took in her appearance. Her dark hair fell just past her shoulders in gentle waves. Her lovely face was unlined and shining with health and he realized she hadn't changed. It was only her eyes that showed the age he knew her to be.

"Miss Garrett, how lovely to see you!" Albus moved toward her extending his hand for her to take. She seemed relieved as she took the offered hand.

"Professor, it's been too long. Please, call me Ainsleigh, Miss Garrett makes me feel as if I am still a schoolgirl doing everything I can to impress my favorite teacher." Dumbledore smiled at this statement, Ainsleigh had been one of his brightest pupils and he still had strong affection for her.

"Ainsleigh it is my dear. Might I inquire as to what has brought you here at this hour." Her smile slipped slightly at the question. Her eyes seemed almost unwillingly drawn to the book on his desk. His gaze followed hers. The mood turned serious as he once again made eye contact with her.

"Please sit my dear, may I offer you a biscuit, or maybe some tea?" Ainsleigh took a seat in the indicated chair and watched as Dumbldore made his way around to the other side of his desk and sat. She accepted the tea, but declined the biscuit. She wrapped both hands around the tea cup as if to ward off a chill, and Dumledore watched as her eyes were drawn to the book again and again. She noticed his scrutiny and hastily took a sip from the cup. The tea was wonderful, filling her with a sense of safety, trust and peace. She smiled at Dumbledore. She should have known he would guess her mood and do what he could to relieve her of her burden. Unfortunately, despite the headmaster's intentions, this burden was not to be lifted anytime soon. She knew he was waiting for her to begin, yet she hardly knew where to start. How much had he guessed? How much could she reveal to assist him, yet not say too much? As she contemplated these and other questions, Dumbledore sat silently, knowing she wasn't to be pushed. She finished the last of the tea, and gathering courage, she began.

"I assume you have an idea of the importance of the diary." Dumbledore sat up straighter in his chair, and leaned forward. His blue eyes penetrated her, seeming to look to her very soul. The seriousness of what she was about to reveal was not lost on him.

"I have an idea. Do you?" She seemed hesitant to answer and Dumbledore knew he would have to wait for her to reveal whatever knowledge she had on her terms. Her next statement confirmed his worst fears.

"It is a horcrux. One of several actually, created by Tom Riddle to attain immortality." The breath left his body. He had suspected, but hearing it said aloud was a shock to his system.

"One of several?" He questioned gravely. She nodded sadly, guilt washing over her as he continued.

"How do you know this?"

_Tom Riddle walked into the library, his eyes seeking a specific dark head. He walked through the aisles of books, and his gaze finally rested on her. She was sitting at a desk in the back, her left hand absently playing with a curl that had fallen over her shoulder. He made his way over to her, and she looked up as he approached, her expression grave._

_"Tom, I have been researching that term you came across, and I have to tell you, I don't understand why this book is even here. The more I read about horcruxes, the dirtier I feel." He watched as she gave a small shutter, her face filling with disgust as she looked at the book lying in front of her. He sat down across and slid the book to his side of the table._

_"You found it? Does it say how to create them? The spell? Any..." His voice trailed off as he met her shocked expression. "I don't want to create one Ains, I just want to know, knowledge is everything remember? I only want to know for theoretical purposes, honestly." She studied him for a long moment, amethyst eyes meeting gray. She looked at the book now in front of Tom, then pulled out another._

_"This book is the one that tells how to make one. EXACTLY how to make one." She handed him the book slowly, apprehension filling her eyes. "Not just in theory Tom, but in practice. This book is the only thing one needs to learn how to create their own horcrux." She stood up slowly and began to gather her things as she watched Tom pour over the book._

_"I have got to get to class, will I see you a dinner?" Tom gave a distracted nod, by now completely engrossed in what he was reading. She walked away, turning to look at him one last time, terrified that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life._

Dumbledore watched as Ainsleigh finally came back to the present. She had been silent a long time, remembering something he was sure caused her great pain. There was a palpable sadness surrounding her as she finally responded.

"I know, because I helped him learned all he needed to create one."


	3. Always a Choice

**A/N** Again I am sorry the updates are coming slowly, it's harder than I imagined getting this story down on paper. My goal is to have another two chapters up before the end of the month, even if I have to lock myself to the computer! Thanks to all who are reading and commenting, it helps motivate me!

* * *

"Am I dead?" The question flew from Tom's mouth as he sat next to Ainsleigh on the bench. He watched as the joy in her eyes slipped away.

"Ainsleigh, I _NEED_ to know. Am I dead?" Panic had filled his voice. Death had been his greatest fear, the one thing he had hoped to avoid at all cost. She sighed as she responded.

"If you are asking if your curse backfired, if Harry Potter was indeed the master of the elder wand, then yes Tom, you are dead. You are dead _mostly._"

"Mostly? How can someone be _mostly dead_?" Confusion and a little anger tainted his voice.

"What you need to understand Tom, is that in your quest for immortality, you crossed lines. You delved into magic that few, if any, before you have dared to try. Because of that, because of the terrible damage done to your soul, you cannot move on like many others do. You are here, not quite living, yet not quite dead."

"So there is hope then? I mastered death after all?" Elation filling every word. Ainsleigh shook her head.

"No Tom, you have not mastered death. You have simply postponed it for a short time. To move on, there are certain things that must be done. Things that must be set right."

"Things? What things? And why are you here? What do you have to do with this?"

"I am the reason you are no longer in torment. The reason you have this chance-"

"Chance to do _what_ exactly?"

"A chance to atone."

"Atone? Atone for what?"

"For the crimes you committed against your soul. It will all make sense in time. Speaking of time-" Her gaze settled on something just behind him.

"It's time Tom."

"Time? Time for what? I don't…" His voice slowly trailed off as a small black book materialized to the left of where he and Ainsleigh were standing. It was suspended midair as if held up by very fine wires, and as it slowly rotated he could just make out the gold lettering on the back. _Tom Marvolo Riddle_.

"It…can't be." His voice filled with wonder as he slowly moved toward the diary, his hand outstretched. He stopped, and turned toward Ainsleigh, his eyes accusing.

"Why is this here? What are you playing at?"

"You must take it Tom. It's the only way for us to move forward." She moved to stand next to him and the diary.

"And if I don't?" He questioned, his voice devoid of emotion.

"You will return to the state in which I found you. Take it Tom, I cannot tell you what is to come, I can only assure you that nothing but unending agony awaits you if you don't. Make your choice."

"_Choice?_ Do I really have a _choice?_"

"There is ALWAYS a choice." Tom turned away from her and looked again at the diary. It seemed innocent enough, but he knew all to well how looks could be deceiving- especially with _this_ particular book. He couldn't say when the decision was made, he could only watch helplessly as his hand plucked the diary from the air. He felt a tug in his stomach curiously similar to the sensation of grabbing a portkey, then everything went black.

* * *

"Where are we?"

"You tell me." Tom looked at his surroundings. Everything was enshrouded in a haze, the details obscured. He could just make out a large mirror just above a row of chipped sinks. As he continued to study the room, it became clearer. He saw a row of stalls lining the walls. The doors were slightly dingy, the paint just beginning to peel.

"The girl's lavatory, second floor, Hogwart's."

"Really? How fascinating!" Ainsleigh replied as she looked around. Tom took a few steps forward, his eyes on a sink at the far end. When he was standing in front of it, his hand reached out to caress a small snake carved into the side of the tap.

"This is the…" His voice trailed off as he glanced at her.

"Yes?"

"Never mind." He looked back at the sink.

"Why are we here?"

"You tell me." Before he could respond, the sound of weeping filled the room. He turned toward the stall behind him.

"Who's there?" His voiced echoed of the walls, but the crying didn't stop.

"Answer me!"

"She can't hear you." Tom continued to look at the door of the stall, his expression filling with confusion.

"Why not?"

"We aren't really here. This is merely the shadow, an echo if you will, of an _event_."

"The echo..?" His voice died as he shot one last look at the stall and moved back to where Ainsleigh stood.

"We have to leave. We need to go before-"

"Before what Tom?"

"I don't want you to see this! We have to go NOW!" He was beginning to panic.

"We cannot leave, not until it is complete. Then we may move on."

"Till what is complete? Move on to what?!" His panic was rising, his voice echoing loudly over the crying of the girl in the far stall. He grabbed her arm, wanting to run away from what he knew was coming.

"You can't run away Tom." She said sadly.

"The past will always find a way to catch up with you. You chose this'"

"I didn't know what I was choosing! I never wanted you to see this!" He continued to tug on her arm in vain.

"Tom, it's too late." Even as he tried to deny her words, defeat washed over him. He saw the door slowly opening. He watched in horror as his teenage self strode purposefully into the room and made his way to the far sink, pausing only to throw a glance at the stall that held the still weeping girl.

"_Open_." The younger Tom commanded as his older counterpart sank to his knees refusing to meet the revulsion he knew had to be in her eyes. She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder as a giant serpent emerged from the chamber that had opened beneath the sink. They watched as a girl wearing glasses, her eyes red and puffy from crying, angrily opened the door.

"_Kill." _The serpent turned to the girl who upon meeting it's gaze, fell to the floor dead.

* * *

The pain that exploded through his body was consuming in it's rage. It moved through him as if alive, seeming to rip his insides to shreds. A star-burst of agony speared behind his eyes, blinding him to everything around him. He retched violently, repeatedly as wave after wave rushed through him. The blood in his veins seemed to be boiling, as if eager to escape the confines of his body. In his terror, he began ruthlessly clawing at his face, his arms, his legs, any part of his body he could reach trying to relieve the unbearable pressure he felt building within. He was distantly aware of Ainsleigh screaming for him to stop, the horror of his pain terrifying. His screams echoed throughout the room as he cried out-

"You lied to me! All lies! I hate you!" He knew he wouldn't survive this. Ainsleigh had brought him here. She had released him from one agony only to bring him to another, greater one. She had lied to him, and he would never forgive the deception. He was too far gone to see the tears streaming down her face. He didn't see her anguish as she tried to keep him from ripping himself apart. He was too absorbed in his torment to see the blinding light surrounding the two of him, or the brilliant piece of soul leaving her and entering his body.


End file.
